Bruises
by What's'SupWitChu
Summary: Dialogue Prompt: "Sherlock, where did you get those bruises?" "Thomas." "And why, brother mine, did he give you bruises?" "He said because I was a freak... Am I a freak, Mycroft?"


**A/N: Hello my lovelies! Another little prompt fic for you. I just love writing about Sherlock and Mycroft XD I hope you enjoy!**

**Reviews are highly appreciated :) xx**

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Mycroft sat on the wall at the edge of the school playground reading a history book as he waited for his little brother to emerge. The elder Holmes would always make his way to the primary school on his way from the upper school in order to escort his little brother home. Despite Mycroft arriving a good ten minutes after the bell Sherlock was always late because he liked to sneak into the science lab to check up on some experiment he had going.

Today, however, was unusual, and Mycroft was very perceptive when it came to a break in routine. Sherlock was nearly a whole ten minutes late for their usual meeting time, and Mycroft was slowly drifting from annoyed and curious to unwanted concern. He closed his book and neatly placed it in his perfectly organised satchel before jumping down and heading to the school building.

He made his way towards the science lab and his brow furrowed with confusion when he found it to be empty, and he could conclude that Sherlock's experiment had not even been touched that evening.

Mycroft turned and started to make his way down the corridor. As he passed the boy's restroom he heard the distinct sniffs and whimpers of a young boy in distress coming from inside.

"Sherlock?" The elder Holmes asked as he gently pushed to door open.

His younger brother let out a startled gasp, and all Mycroft saw was a swift blur as Sherlock bolted towards one of the cubicles and locked himself inside. Mycroft sighed and placed his bag down next to the sink before grimacing with great disgust as he knelt down on the floor outside the cubicle - only for Sherlock.

"Sherlock, please come out and tell me what is the matter" the elder Holmes formally requested.

Inside the cubicle, Sherlock was sat on the closed toilet lid with his legs pulled up into his chest. He has his arms folded on his knobbly knees and had his face buried in them hoping to muffle any noises of anguish from his brother.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft asked much more softly now.

"Go away!" Sherlock yelled aggressively.

He didn't want to let his brother see the ugly bruises currently developing on his left eye and right cheek. Mycroft would think he was weak. He'd tried to fight back with his words like his big brother had taught him, but such well thought out retorts were wasted on idiots such as Thomas Myers who only thought with their fists. Now Sherlock was a complete mess, and he was so sick of people treating him like he was a...a... He didn't even want to think about it.

"You know I'm not going to leave" Mycroft persisted. "Mummy will be worried if we don't return home soon."

"Well, you just go and tell her I had to stay behind for a while." Sherlock mumbled.

Mycroft sighed, but with sympathy rather than despair. Even if they did fight, a lot, it still hurt to hear Sherlock so upset - despite everything he'd only ever wanted to protect his baby brother.

"Sherlock, I'm sure if you just come out and tell me what's wrong we can find an appropriate solution."

Sherlock lifted his head, giving one last sniff and rubbing his not swollen eye of any remaining tears. He knew how resilient Mycroft was and he didn't exactly want to be sat in a grubby toilet all night.

"Do you promise not to laugh?" The younger Holmes asked hesitantly.

"Of course. I promise." Mycroft replied. Sherlock was proud to say he was one of the few who could tell when his brother was being sincere - this was one of those times.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself before standing and cautiously unlocking the door. He preceded to open it slowly, but Mycroft started to push it open faster with his own hand when worry started to take a firm grip.

The elder brother's usually level expression fell into one of horror when he got a clear look at his younger sibling.

"Sherlock, where did you get those bruises?" He asked as he gently caressed his brother's unmarked cheek.

"Thomas" Sherlock murmured - he was yet to meet his brother's gaze from fear and shame.

"And why, brother mine, did he give you bruises?" Mycroft asked, struggling to hide the venom in his voice. Of course, any anger he felt at that moment was not directed at his bother, but at the brute of a child who has caused Sherlock harm.

"He said because I was a freak..." Sherlock said meekly. He looked up at his brother then with eyes shining with sadness. "Am I freak, Mycroft?"

The elder Holmes shook his head. "No" He said firmly. "Being different doesn't make you a freak. Uniqueness is something that people should strive for. It's like..they are just goldfish swimming around in their tiny bowl but you can see the entire ocean. Does that make any sense?"

Sherlock nodded. "I think so."

"Do you think I'm a freak?" Mycroft asked his brother.

He was slightly taken aback when Sherlock barrelled in to him, wrapping his arms tightly around Mycroft's waist and shaking his head vigorously into the crook of his neck.

"Well, there you go" Mycroft said with a soft smile as he hugged his brother back. "Come on, let's get you home" he encouraged. "And you can make sure to tell me everything about this Thomas boy" he added sternly.

Sherlock nodded again as he pulled away but kept a firm grasp on his brother's hand, the gesture going unmentioned by both the Holmes siblings.

"Thank you" Sherlock in practically a whisper as they exited the restroom.

"No need for thanks, it's what big brothers are for" Mycroft assured him.


End file.
